FUTURES SCIENCE FICTION
BLOOD WILL TELL
BY TOM EASTON &
JACK MCDEVITT
A
ndy Pharon didn’t know why
he spent an hour every morning on FaceBook. Scandal!
Outrage! Funny pussycats! More
outrage! He might have been reading
a tabloid, except that FaceBook was
more respectable. Which mattered, as
he was in Larry’s. Martha came over.
“Everything okay, Andy?”
“Excellent.” He gave her his standard thumbs-up.
He was relieved moments later when his
e-mail dinged. Sarah Mills, chief development officer at BioFutures Labs, wanted
more ideas. Meeting at 10. Be there!
He finished his sweet roll and sipped his
coffee. More ideas. He had nothing, but he
couldn’t say that, could he?
That was when the old guy with the roller
bag squeezed between tables and stopped
beside his chair. He was too well dressed to
be a drifter but Andy still shook his head as
he turned away for another sip of coffee.
“I thought I remembered this place,” the
guy said. “Came here every morning for five
years.”
Andy concentrated on his coffee cup and
said nothing. Give ’em an inch, and they’ll
take a mile. Ten miles.
The guy looked down at him. “Hi, Andy.
How’s it going?”
“You know my name?”
“Sure. I’m you.”
“What?” His face was lined and seamed,
age spots, hardly any hair. Fifty years older
than Andy. “Would you please go away?”
“We’ll get time travel in about 30 years.”
He smiled. “I need a favour.”
If this had been an e-mail, he would have
hit delete. “Go away, gramps!”
The guy sighed. “I knew you would react
that way. That I would. That I had. But I’m
not a scammer. I don’t want your money.
And I already have your ID.” He pulled out
a chair and lowered himself into it. Then he
produced a wallet. “See?”
Driver’s licence. His picture with the name
Andrew Pharon. Birth date was correct. Issue
date: 2072. That would make him over 80.
Andy stared at him. The guy was smiling.
“What do you want?”
NATURE.COM
The smile faded.
Follow Futures:
“Some of your blood.”
@NatureFutures
Andy sat frozen.
go.nature.com/mtoodm Had his life turned
into a vampire fantasy?
“Just some plasma, actually.”
“Why?”
“Your people are already working on it.
Putting young plasma into an old body can
turn the clock back.”
Andy nodded. If it was true … “But why
me?” Even as he spoke, he knew the answer.
His own young plasma would work better
than anyone else’s. He really was a timetraveller.
Andrew grinned and delivered his standard thumbs-up, removing all doubt.
“Andy!” Martha waved at him. “You gonna
be late!”
He waved back. This was one reason he
liked Larry’s. They cared.
The old guy was still sitting there, waiting
for his response. But it was ridiculous. Time
travel wasn’t possible. “You have got to be
pulling my leg.”
The guy shook his head. “No. I just need
a couple of pints today, and again next week
and the week after.” He looked at his bag.
“The equipment’s right here.”
“I’m sure it is. But there’s no way I’m letting you stick needles in me. And I’ve got to
run.” Andy tucked his tablet into his briefcase and stood.
“But …!” He looked stricken, as if he had
never dreamt that his own self would turn
him down. “But I’m you! We’re even closer
than blood kin!”
“Pardon me. I have to leave.” Incredibly,
the guy was smiling as Andy went out the
door.
Andy glanced over his shoulder and headed
down the sidewalk, barely noticing the fumes
of the remaining gasburners or the fragrance
of the vagrant at the corner. The old guy
wasn’t following him. Thank God. Maybe
he should switch coffee shops for a few days.
But then the guy might just show up on his
Tom Easton is a retired theoretical biologist
who has written science-fiction novels and
criticism and edited anthologies in addition
to more academic work. Jack McDevitt
is a prolific, award-winning novelist with
an abiding interest in alien contact. A
Philadelphia native, he has been, among
other things, a naval officer, an English
teacher and a management trainer for the
US Customs Service.
.
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doorstep. That would freak the hell
out of his girlfriend.
Okay. Now he had to come up
with an idea for Sarah.
BioFutures focused on the microbiome. Their last big success was a
probiotic ointment for getting rid
of acne. Lately they’d been working
on figuring out how to manipulate
bacteria in the gut to control obesity.
They were close, which was why they
needed new ideas. Had to keep the
pipeline flowing.
Maybe the old guy had something?
Not time travel. But he recalled reading
something about plasma and ageing. It
wouldn’t take long to check.
Once in the building, he went directly to
his cube and started the search. And yes,
they were working on it, testing it on people
and making slow progress. The idea went
back a century, when someone spliced the
veins of a young mouse and an old mouse
together. The old one got perkier, healthier,
younger. The young one aged.
And plasma could be frozen.
He almost laughed.
It took him an hour to write the proposal.
Start with some research into whether one’s
own young plasma is really better than
a stranger’s. Use mice, where the difference between young and old isn’t great. If
it checks out, then start collecting plasma,
freeze it, store it, and when the donor turns
into an old guy …
He thought Sarah would like it. It was the
perfect business plan, complete with references and links. Sell a promise, much like the
old cryonics scam. Collect the money now,
and worry later about whether the product
actually works. Although this one seemed
much more likely to be a success than cryonics ever had.
He would be among the very first to bank
his plasma. And his older self knew how it
had worked out. No wonder he’d sat there
smiling when Andy walked out. ■
ILLUSTRATION BY JACEY
Family ties.